Resolve to Misery
by LiquidVamp
Summary: Hermione-centric After fifteen years of marriage, some days it's hard to remember who she is. Lost in a torrent of pain and misery Hermione has some hard choices to make. WARNING: This fic deals w/ emotional abuse. IF you are Hr/R fan DO NOT READ!


**Resolve to Misery**

_**A/N: LET ME MAKE THIS PERFECTLY CLEAR BEFORE YOU READ THIS FIC. **_

_**I AM NOT A RON HATER! **_

_**If you don't like like the idea of something breaking up Ron and Hermione, don't read this.  
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_Despite the content of this fic, I like Ron just fine. The content of this fiction reflects what COULD happen under less than perfect circumstances in life in an alternate universe life between he and Hermione based on what I saw between them over the course of the books. This is a reflection based on real-life situations that many woman have faced. Abuse isn't always slaps and punches in low-class families. Also bear in mind before you flame about me breaking up your 'prefect ship' _that these characters are NOT real and shouldn't be taken personally. Attacking a story or writer because you don't like the theme of said story displays a lack of maturity on your behalf. You are under no compulsion to read it.

_**To remind you of a lesson most of us were taught as children:**_

_**If you don't have something nice to say then don't say anything at all! _**Flames are not welcome. Keep them to yourself.**_  
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_A huge hug and a thank you to SpiceKittens for all of her hard work as beta. I couldn't have done it without her help._

_No copyright infringement intended. All characters are the property of JKR, Scholastic, and any number of other companies with more money than I've ever dreamed of seeing. I didn't make any money off of this, so please don't sue._

**HG HG HG HG HG HG HG **

She was just so tired; so tired of being an adult, so tired of being the one who kept their family in order. So tired of being the one who made sure the bills were paid, that dinners were cooked (and eaten), that laundry was clean, folded, and right where it was supposed to be when someone came asking where their favorite jumper was, so tired of being the last one to bed at night, and the first one awake in the mornings.

They had been married fifteen years, and everyday it seemed as if she did more, and he did less. She wanted to scream and cry and run away from it all. The desire to throw up her hands and say 'fuck it all' permeated her every cell, from her core on out. Some days the words sat on the tip of her tongue, like a deadly hex that she battled to hold in.

She wasn't even sure when it started. When had she become so disenchanted with the life she had made for herself? When had her marriage fallen apart? For years she had been just fine with working countless hours at home, then leaving it to work countless more hours in a job that had long since lost its joy. She had spent years happily being a mother, a wife, and a working witch. When had she grown so tired of everything? When had her smile gone from genuine to forced?

She couldn't put her finger on it but she knew that it had been a gradual build up to the point she was at now; hating her life, her husband, her job, and almost everything, but her children.

Yet, she knew she was at fault, more so with Ronald than with some other aspects of her life. After all she truly had no control over her job and the lack of advancement after all. She had worked her hardest since day one, yet had never received even the slightest commendation for the work she preformed. She couldn't make them give her a raise and/or a promotion shy of the dark arts, which she wouldn't stoop to. She couldn't put a stop to the daily doldrums of keeping house; everyone had that battle to wage. But Ronald and his attitudes, she was partly at fault for. She had held his hand for seven years of school; always reminding him to do his assignments and then checking over them when he had them completed. Now, after fifteen years of marriage, he still acted as if he needed her to hold his hand on anything harder than going to the loo.

The lazy sod rarely lifted a finger to do anything, save to wave his wand in the direction of the Wizarding Wireless or to summon something else to eat from the kitchen. When he did, he questioned her a million times about how to proceed. She was never sure if it was a stall tactic, or if he was simply that ignorant about everything; more likely a combination of the two.

She could almost taste her vitriol towards him now like a bitter essence that lingered on her tongue, even after taking a long, cool, drink. When had their love and passion turned into anger and resentment? Why hadn't she done something to stop it before she allowed herself to become this bitter?

Time had changed everything. She wanted away from the misery that had become her life, but she couldn't imagine upsetting the balance like that. She was a capable woman. She could support herself if she left, but how would she explain to Rose and Hugo that their mother had just walked away from their father, when they had never heard so much as a single argument between them?

Still, with every day that passed the ache increased and turned into a repressed need. She shut herself away from friends and further away from Ronald. It was easier to hide the pain when there was no one that could see past the facade that she wore on her face every day. She went to work, did her job, and left most days without a word being said to anyone. She fought the desire to walk away from her job, her family, and her marriage; even when it almost screamed in her ears to make a change.

There were days where she would spend her entire lunch break crying in frustration, in a well silenced bathroom stall, for all the frustration that had built up within her. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to follow through with her desire to leave. She couldn't break up the lives of everyone around her. She couldn't be the one who walked away. She just simply could not be the one to leave.

She dreamed unbelievable daydreams of Ron leaving her, of accidents he met at work…of accidents she met going about her day, of millions of reasons why they weren't together anymore that wasn't because she had walked away. None of them would ever be a reality. There were no Death Eaters still roaming the country side these last fifteen years, and even if there had been they wouldn't kill one of them and not the other. There were no deadly accidents in quidditch shops for Ronald to meet with. She was not likely to be run over by the Knight Bus walking across the street in Hogsmead anymore than he was likely to be struck dead by a falling meteor. It was all the product of an overactive, if pained, imagination. The only release from this agony would have to be herself, and she was not going to make that decision.

She couldn't. Her children needed their father and their mother together under one roof as a family. They had lived blissfully unaware of the tension their mother constantly felt, and would continue to as far as Hermione was concerned. She would not upset the apple cart simply because she was unhappy. She might be the one apple that was very near rotten, but she was far enough removed from the others that she saw no reason why her rot would taint them.

She just had to remind herself that she was resolute in living the life she had, even if she wasn't pleased with the direction it took. The time for changing things had passed with the vows she spoke to remain at her husband's side until the day they pass beyond the veil. It was a moment by moment reminder because, if she let herself forget, the voice in her mind telling her to run just might be loud enough to convince her to run; to leave and not look back.

It was the proverbial rock and hard-place, and she was resolved to stay right in the middle of it because she wouldn't leave and things simply were not changing. The question was how long her resolve and nerves would last. It was a question she wouldn't even pose to herself because she ultimately knew the answer, that one day she would have to make the decision she had steadfastly denied to make. She just didn't know, when that day came, if things would be better or worse for her; and she didn't want to know.


End file.
